“Damn!”
I jumped up and ran as quickly as I could through the cafeteria, knocking three guys out of the way.
If I ever wished I was faster it was now.
I was bouncing my feet on the train ride home hoping they were coming from Deadsouth in which case I would get there before them. When I finally showed up, there were two women, Bronze, Toby, and my toilet waiting outside my apartment building. The women looked none-too-happy.
I had put my toilet outside because without the water and chemical flow, it dried out and started to stink up my apartment. So I did like the plumber said and put it outside—though I didn’t use it of course. The dead body was harder to explain.
I hurried up, in my bare feet, smelling of the Gentleman’s Club with an autocannon as a sidearm.
Bronze hugged me like I was his long-lost brother.
“This is too much. Are you like the king of Belvaille or what? Is this whole street yours?”
“No one lives here. It’s not that I own it.”
The women were huddled together and whispering and glancing like they were trying to figure the safest way out.
“I can explain this stuff,” I said, indicating the deposits on my front door.
“No one’s asking,” Bronze said, as if it were beyond rude to question outdoor plumbing and corpses. “This is Qindol.” He pointed to a shapely woman with not a stick of hair on her. She had tattoos in their place. She had great bone structure and, as I said, a great body.
“And this is Byo’lene.” He then indicated the other woman, who was presumably my date. Her expression was a mixture of horrified and terrified. It was tough to gauge her actual looks beyond that. She wore tight, skimpy, synth clothes that were nonetheless classy. From her wardrobe alone I could surmise Bronze hadn’t met her anywhere near Deadsouth.
“So,” I said, hoping to talk about anything. “How do you ladies know me?”
“We don’t know you, we know of you, that’s what we were trying to tell him,” Qindol said, exasperated.
My stomach dropped. It was crystal clear to everyone except Bronze that these ladies did not want to be here. Maybe they wanted to be with him, but they were not remotely interested in hanging out with Hank of Hank Block.
“Want to come inside?” I asked.
“Sure!” Bronze volunteered.
I tried my best to mentally will the women to come up with some excuse to leave, but they dutifully followed him. They both hung around him like he had a protective force field and the closer they got, the gigglier and happier they became. He just had that effect.
Inside I took off my autocannon and looking around I realized my apartment was still a bit disheveled from when I fought the pale sisters. They hadn’t done much damage, but I had smashed around trying to hit them.
“How about something to drink?” I offered.
“If it ain’t a bother. I can have water. Or anything you got,” Bronze said.
He sat on the couch and the women sat on either side of him.
In my kitchen I thought about which brand to get. Bronze probably didn’t care, but I kind of wanted to splurge—and maybe show off a bit.
So that’s what I did, I poured some of my best alcohol. Bronze slammed the drink. I’m not sure if it even touched his tongue.
“Thanks, Hank!”
The women held their glasses and didn’t drink. As if they were expecting me to poison them.
Bronze and Qindol began canoodling on my couch. Tickling each other and petting and kissing. While Byo’lene looked beyond awkward and stared into her drink like her very soul depended on counting the molecules in the liquid.
I sat in a chair and drank.
“Byo’lene,” I began, “what do you do for a living?”
“I’m a dancer,” she said, not raising her eyes.
“Which club?”
“Tamshius qua-Froyeled’s,” she said, pronouncing his name expertly.
“Oh, I know him. I’ve worked for him a lot. Nice guy.”
She didn’t answer. She looked over to her friend who was busy.
“You know I get on them about the uniforms they make you all wear. I mean sure they can look good, but they’re a little demeaning and silly.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, finally looking at me.
“Is that your work uniform?”
“No.” Her eyes blinked rapidly, trying to figure out what I was saying.
At this point, I wasn’t sure what else I could do to make things worse. Maybe drag my toilet inside and use it right in front of the couch.
Bronze finally came up for air and he was either a great kisser or a great something, because Qindol was putty.
“Sorry, Hank, who were you saying you worked for?”
“Oh. Just her boss, Tamshius.”
“See? Small city. What did you do for him?” he asked conversationally.
“Killed people,” Byo’lene offered with venom. I think she had finally deduced I had been poking fun at her clothes.
Bronze jumped to his feet and turned to the couch.
“Whoa. Whoa. You just take it easy. You know what this guy has done for this station?”
“Let’s go to your place, baby,” Qindol purred, her hand reaching out to him.
“Look, we are guests here. This guy has been nothing but kind. On his own street, mind you.”
“Just a block,” I said.
“I want to go,” Byo’lene huffed.
“I’m getting a little tired anyway, Bronze. Maybe you guys should head out and I can talk to you some other time,” I said.
But Bronze Badel Bardel wasn’t having it.
“I think you two should apologize to Hank,” he said, and it was the first time I had seen him not happy.
“He’s got a dead body and dirty toilet outside,” Byo’lene said, making it very clear there would be no apology from her. She stood up and put her glass on the armrest of my couch, where it knocked over and spilled its contents.
“Look at that,” Bronze said, pointing. He turned back to me, mortified. “Hank, I’m really sorry about this.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it. It is what it is.”
I stood up and slowly tried to usher everyone outside. Imagine that five minutes ago I was excited about this.
“Come on, baby.” Qindol was still clawing at Bronze.
It took a bit of shepherding, but I managed to get them all outside.
Bronze was saying sorry, Byo’lene had her arms crossed so tight I thought she might crush her own ribcage, and Qindol was all but trying to mate with Bronze right here.
“Nice having you,” I said, waving.
Suddenly Byo’lene crumpled to the ground.
I was apparently the only person who noticed and went over to check on her. She was lying on her side and when I turned her on her back, I saw a wound in the center of her chest as if from a gunshot.
“Get inside!” I yelled at the other two.
Qindol finally saw her friend and began screaming. Bronze grabbed her and pulled her back into my apartment.
I tried to check Byo’lene’s vitals, but my hands were too thick to feel a pulse. I turned her on her stomach and saw a sizeable exit wound. Whatever shot her had gone clean through.
If she wasn’t already dead, she would be in mere moments. Moreover, I was concerned her killer was now looking at me.
CHAPTER 12
We waited in my apartment for the better part of a day.
I asked Bronze and Qindol everything about themselves and the deceased. They mentioned nothing that would make them logical targets for assassination. At least not all the way out on Belvaille—Bronze really did have a lot of ex-wives.
I could only assume that I was the intended victim.
But if someone was trying to kill me, using a normal gun wouldn’t be effective. And they had shot Byo’lene perfectly for a mortal strike.
Still, I felt the two were safer away from me and Hank Block. I tol
d them to run out of my apartment and head in opposite directions. When they left, I briefly waved at my front door to notify the killer I was still inside.
The two reached their homes and teled that they were fine, which confirmed they were not the targets.
Or the assassin got tired of hanging around.
I went to sleep after some home cooking and woke to find I had to go to the bathroom, which meant going up to one of the other apartments.
In the hallway of my building, the pale ladies were waiting.
“Hey,” I said, bleary-eyed.
They took out their weapons, and began flipping and twirling around.
“You know—” I started, and got a knife in my mouth. “Kach!”
My toilet was outside and the pipes were all stuffed with calk to prevent water from spraying everywhere. So that option was gone. The hall was narrower than my living room, but it was long and tall and they simply bounded away from me.
I couldn’t figure why they were here.
I walked into the corner of the hallway, getting stabbed all along the way, and I sat with my back—and butt—against the wall. I put my head between my knees and wrapped my arms around them, balling my hands into fists, so they couldn’t get at my fingernails. I then curled my toes under as best I could.
“Didn’t we do this already?” I asked them from my protective shell.
“Are you neglecting your responsibility to us?” one of them asked, though they were still attacking me.
“It’s not easy finding someone in this city. I’m looking. Did you kill that lady outside?”
“We are tourists,” the other said.
Slash. Cut. Stab.
“Clearly. I need more information on your sister. What is she here for?”
There was a pause and I was tempted to look up but I got stabbed a few more times and I stayed put.
“She came to try and find someone.”
“She came to find someone or you all did?”
“Both of us.”
“Are you looking for the same person?” I asked, trying to muddle through.
The attacks stopped.
“Are you asking us if she is looking for herself?”
“No. I mean, no. But, um, who is she looking for? Is she looking for Garm?”
“We know where Garm is. Why would we contact Garm and ask for assistance to find Garm?”
Man, I really had it with saucy, bossy women—who were playfully trying to kill me.
“Hey, can you stop hacking at me for a minute so we can talk? This isn’t how I do business.”
They stopped and I peeked up. They were standing a comfortable distance away with their weapons sheathed.
I didn’t stand but I relaxed a little and rubbed the places they cut. I also scrutinized them a bit more, as if I was expecting to spot the sniper rifle used to kill Byo’lene hidden somewhere in their bikinis.
“Who is she trying to find?” I asked.
“We cannot say.”
“Can’t say because you don’t know or don’t want to say?”
“Both,” they answered helpfully.
“If I knew who she was looking for it would be good. That would be twice as many chances for them to overlap with other people I know.”
“The person she’s searching for is a criminal.”
“That’s like everyone on Belvaille. What does she want with him?”
The pale ladies communicated with each other silently.
“We don’t know if it is a male or female or other. But she wants to kill the person. Which is why we want to stop her.”
“So you’re protecting the criminal?”
“No.”
I stood up.
“Okay, I’m confused. She wants to find and kill someone. You want to stop her. But you don’t like the criminal either? Why stop her?”
“She is not allowed to kill the person.”
“Allowed? What does she need, a doctor’s order? Who isn’t allowing her? You guys?”
The pale ladies paused.
“Garm.”
CHAPTER 13
“Why didn’t you tell me!” I yelled at Garm in her office.
“Because it’s none of your business.” She sat behind her desk with her feet propped-up, twirling her pistol absently. Even relaxing she couldn’t stay still.
“How is it not my business? This is the exact definition of my business. I’m getting paid for it.”
“I don’t know who they’re looking for,” she said, unconcerned.
“Who isn’t the problem. It’s where.”
“Whatever.”
“I’ve known you for decades, why didn’t you tell me you were in a secret…thing?”
“One, because it’s secret. Two, because it’s none of your business. Three…it’s not that secret.”
“I didn’t know!” I protested.
“Like I know everything about you.”
“What’s to know? I’m an open screen. How long has this been going on?”
“Um. Since I was born? It’s what our planet does.”
“Kill people,” I said with horror, like I was a priest.
“Like you’re a priest or something. Besides, it’s not just assassinations, that’s a very small part of our training. Every planet produces different things, right? If there was a Hank planet everyone would be a complainer who was slow and ate a lot.”
“I’m a mutant. The government did this to me!”
“Sure.”
“Does the Navy know about you? Your ‘connections’?”
“That’s why they hired me. It’s a very similar skillset. I did Intelligence work, remember?”
“I can’t believe they would overlook that kind of background.”
“They hired you.”
“As a senior officer,” I jabbed.
“Yeah, for two weeks or whatever. And you never got paid.”
“So how are you stopping the assassination?”
“Easy, we have to keep track of each other. This is my territory—as bad as it is. They requested to kill someone here, I said no.”
“What are you, their boss?”
“No, it’s just common decency. I can’t go into someone else’s territory and set up.”
“Territory? Is killing people here your job?”
“Look, what did I do as Adjunct Overwatch?”
“I don’t know. Navy stuff.”
“Besides that. What did you and I work on?”
“When we dated?”
She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.
“No. When we just worked on anything. When I hired you to do something.”
“I don’t know. Protect stuff, break stuff, buy stuff—”
“Exactly, that is what I do in my territory and I don’t want outsiders coming in assassinating people.”
“People get killed all the time,” I argued.
“Locals, by locals. It’s a whole other thing to have members of the Quadrad come here and assassinate folks.”
“So you’re fine with tanks rolling through the streets and bombs going off in casinos but some skinny ladies with knives is too much?”
“They wouldn’t use knives, they’d use whatever they needed. Hank, I would love to tell the corporations what they can and can’t do. And they would ignore me—at best. I can tell members of the Quadrad.”
“So you’re in this Quadrad still?”
“By birth, by death.”
“Why don’t you look like them?”
“Because I’m not bleaching my skin and dying my hair, maybe. You’d look like them too if you did that. Well, maybe not.”
“But you do kind of look like them,” I said, staring.
“We’re from the same planet. The same country. I like to think I look unique, but I suppose we have some similarities.”
“Do you still got clothes like them?”
I was picturing Garm in the pale women outfits. Those boots. That hair. Those bikini-things.
I mean, Garm didn’t flash much skin, but she was a really toned gal.
“Stop it,” she said, annoyed.
And I knew she was fast. Probably as athletic as those women. Maybe more. I could see her flipping around and those strong shoulders, with muscles on her back, and firm legs.
Bang!
“Ow!” I yelled, snapping out of my reverie and grabbing my forehead where Garm shot me.
She was across the room with her smoking gun. I hadn’t even seen her move.
“Keep your thoughts to yourself,” she cautioned.
I couldn’t catch her, but I was really tired of these Quadrad. Their home world must have a billboard with my face on it ticking off the number of times they had beaten on me.
I turned to Garm’s desk. Her magnificent bejeweled desk. I began tilting forward. More. More.
“No!” Garm yelled.
Crash!
I fell face forward onto her desk, smashing it into splinters. There were fragments all across her office. Little jewels glittering in the corners.
“Do you have any idea how much that was worth?” she screamed.
“Yeah, and I notice you didn’t say ‘cost’ since you didn’t pay for it.”
“What if something really important had been in there, you fat jerk?”
I slowly got to my feet and brushed off pieces of desk.
“Now you know not to shoot me.”
CHAPTER 14
I was walking down the street, mulling all the latest news, when a car pulled up next to me.
It was not a gang car, because it wasn’t ostentatious or stretched or armored. It was painted yellow with thin red stripes. All of this made me concerned because I knew it was a corporation vehicle.
The side rear window rolled down and a man inside the car addressed me.
“Hank. Could I have a word with you?”
The man’s brown hair was long and he had an extremely lengthy beard, disappearing beneath the window. He looked youthful, but his hair made it hard to tell. His lack of wrinkles and gray hair was mostly how I discerned his age. His eyes were absolutely solid black, iris, pupil, and sclera. His eyes were so black and shiny they were reflective. I wasn’t sure if he was wearing contacts or just had freaky eyeballs.
“Sorry, I need to be going,” I said, wanting nothing to do with corporations after I had maybe destroyed an APC and someone was mysteriously assassinated in front of my door. Maybe two people if you counted Toby. Or maybe my stairs were killers.
Hard Luck Hank: Basketful of Crap Page 7